


Dreamconnect

by merigold



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Body Swap, M/M, Online Dating, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 13:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merigold/pseuds/merigold
Summary: “Hello!” The Viktor look-alike smiles, charming.It takes Yuuri a moment to find his voice. His heart is pounding loud and fast, even though rationally he knows this isn’t the real thing. “Um, hello.”“It looks like we’ve been matched up tonight,” Viktor says. Even his inflection sounds exactly right.





	Dreamconnect

It’s not something Yuuri is particularly proud of, but in the end he’s only human. He ordered the device online and donned a face mask for pickup from the delivery point. Upon arriving home with the package, he sets all three locks to his tiny apartment -- one digital and two tarnished physical -- then closes his curtains and sits heavily on the bed.

It’s fine. He’s fine.This is normal for someone his age, truly. It’s kind of amazing he hasn’t had one until now, considering how central they are to dating in the modern age.

Under the bland brown shipping materials, the box itself is sleek silver chipboard, thick and weighty. It’s unadorned except for the word _Dreamconnect_ written in thin, elegant font. Yuuri slides off the lid and looks at what a few months worth of saving up has yielded.

A flexible silver arc, meant to curl around your temple and loop behind your ear. It’s surprisingly small and light. There are two blue display lights that flicker on as he lifts it out of its nest of foam.

Yuuri hesitates with the device barely an inch away from his temple.

It’s perfectly safe, widely used, and anonymous. What’s he so afraid of?

Still, it takes a few minutes before he puts it on. The metal is cool against his skin to start, but quickly warms up.

Then he takes off all his clothes and lays back on top of the comforter, nude. Having already completed his biometric registration online, there’s not much he has to do except close his eyes and dream.

 

* * *

 

Having played many video games, the opening scene he blinks into is very familiar in all aspects apart from the perspective. It’s your standard character creation screen, with helpful tooltips, encouraging you to change your height, weight, eye color--anything you’d like. The entire wall before him is a flat mirror, so he can judge his choices.

Yuuri already feels fake enough as it is, so he takes off his glasses and does little else to alter his appearance. He’s already plain, and doubts anyone would be able to recognise him in real life from his dream avatar.

Being raised in an onsen, nudity doesn’t bother Yuuri in the slightest. However, jumping straight into anything nude makes his stomach twist into knots. Tonight is just a trial run, he reminds himself. He ends up selecting what he usually wears to sleep in real life, plain blue pajama pants and a soft, white sleep shirt.

He’s already filled out a matching form on preferences, but as the interface prompts him for what he’s looking for tonight he chickens out. _Casual talk_ he selects, the most tame option from a many and varied list.

The character creation screen fades away. Yuuri blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he’s in a very strange living room. At least, a room intended to loosely resemble a living room.

Everything is in shades of warm gray, from the plush rug on the floor, to the modern couch, to the gauzy curtains that hang on either side of giant window. From the angle and quality of the light, it’s sunset, but when Yuuri walks over to peer out the glass, he is met with only blank golden mist beyond. He can see his own reflection in the glass, plain and nervous.

There are no pictures or personal items in the space, which Yuuri thinks is a little cold. No sooner does he think that than a few photos appear on the walls, all of them people-less landscapes. He recognises them as views of the ocean near Hasetsu.

It seems like whatever he imagines, the virtual reality seeks to fulfill, just as advertised. Yuuri sits down on the imaginary couch, which is very comfortable, and waits.

He ends up dozing a little, which seems odd to do in a dream. Time doesn’t pass the same way here as it does in reality. They actually warn you about it in the product guide: don’t try to add clocks or elements with a lot of numbers. The digits always scramble and flip. It’s a distracting bug in the system that’s better to avoid, since it breaks immersion.

One wall of the room is an entertainment screen, which Yuuri activates after some time. He pulls up a simple retro game, SUPER SPACE ALIENS 4, a pixelated sidescroller that was never designed to be played on such a big scale, and lets muscle memory take over for a time. Collect a fruit. Blast a ship. Continue on to the next stage. His score is just a slowly-filling progress bar in the corner.

He’s so involved in the game that he jumps up off the couch, clutching his chest, when someone clears their throat.

Oh!

The system had understood his preferences to an incredible degree, Yuuri thinks, slightly hysterical, because standing in the dreamspace is none other than Viktor Nikiforov.

A projection, of course. Handsome celebrities like Viktor are probably a really popular choice, one which Yuuri appreciates, to be honest. In his real life bedroom, he has no less than six posters of the man on his walls (and one framed lovingly on his desk). To say he is a fan of the figure skater is an understatement.

“Hello!” The Viktor look-alike smiles, charming.

It takes Yuuri a moment to find his voice. His heart is pounding loud and fast, even though rationally he knows this isn’t the real thing. “Um, hello.”

“It looks like we’ve been matched up tonight,” Viktor says. Even his inflection sounds exactly right.

Yuuri wishes he had imagined himself in something fancier, because Viktor is certainly dressed for a much better occasion. He has an expensive-looking black button-down shirt and very tight dress pants that accentuate his perfect legs.

Yuuri smooths down his own hair, needlessly. “Would you like to play Super Space Aliens?” He gestures at the entertainment center where the game over screen is flashing.

How stupid. He wants to dig a hole and die in it. It’s not _really_ Viktor Nikiforov, he knows this, but the image alone is enough to fluster him.

Viktor blinks. “Space Aliens?”

“It’s a game,” Yuuri says. He squares his shoulders. This _isn’t_ Viktor, get a grip. “I bet I can beat you.”

The Viktor lookalike seems pleased at that. “You think so? All right. I don’t back down from a challenge, you see. May I learn the name of my opponent?”

“Yuuri.” He bows his head, cultural training kicking in. He fights off a please take care of me.

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri.” The way his name sounds in that voice does something to Yuuri’s spine. “I’m Viktor.”

Yuuri laughs, but plays along. “Nice to meet you, Viktor.”

They sit next to each other on the couch and begin two-player mode. Viktor is comically terrible at it, which Yuuri takes full advantage of, scoring points early on. Every time his little pixel ship is destroyed, Viktor says a dramatic _No!_ and his excitement makes Yuuri laugh. It’s like he’s never played a video game before. He does improve over time, quickly for a beginner, but it’s nowhere near enough to beat Yuuri’s years of wasting time in this game. He wins every single round.

“I’ll have to challenge you again sometime,” Viktor says, when they’re done. “I don’t know what exactly I was expecting with the _Dreamconnect_ , but this was certainly better than anything I could have imagined.”

Yuuri feels the same. “I had a great time. Thanks for playing with me.”

“How will I find you again?” Viktor asks.

“I think there’s a ‘friend’ function, when you wake up. We can add each other, then if we’re both asleep at the same time, it can match us again.” Yuuri hopes that he does. This is the most fun he’s had in ages, since his best friend Phichit moved away and Yuuri’s pool of real life friends he felt comfortable inviting to things shrunk down to none.

The room starts to fade out.

“I hope to see you soon!” Viktor says.

That would be nice, Yuuri thinks, but he doubts he’ll be that lucky.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Viktor notices upon waking is that he’s very cold, which is quite odd. Has the heater gone out? It’s not even that cold in St. Petersburg lately. He searches blindly for his comforter or his poodle, but when neither are available he opens his eyes and freezes, shocked.

This is not Viktor’s bedroom. For one thing, he doesn’t have so many framed photos of himself on his walls. Unable to locate a lamp, Viktor pulls aside the curtain and lets sunlight flood the alien room.

It’s very cluttered to Viktor’s eyes, with shelves in the corner full of what look to be books in an Asian language and a synthesizer sitting on top. There’s a desk with a laptop and speakers.

Everything is blurry and blinking does nothing to clear his vision. He reaches up to pull off the _Dreamconnect_ headset, thinking perhaps that this is some strange side effect of the device. Which would be sad, honestly, because he had such a surprisingly nice time losing video games to Yuuri.

It’s then, holding the spindly device in his palm, that Viktor realizes he isn’t in his own body. The hands before him are smaller, nails much shorter. He’s used to sleeping naked, and apparently this body is too, because he gets of glimpse of deep black curls between his much-shorter legs before frantically looking for a mirror with growing horror.

There are blue-framed glasses on the nightstand, which he puts on. The mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door reveals a man with black hair, brown eyes, and very shapely hips and thighs.

The boy from last night looks back at him. The same one who’d challenged him to shoot down tiny pixel ships and won again and again, who’d treated Viktor like just another person and not a celebrity, with the sweet smile and cute little nose.

How interesting! Did they switch? Is that even possible? There’s probably a lawsuit they could leverage against the _Dreamconnect_.

As Viktor hunts around the apartment looking for something to wear, he’s nervous, excited, engaged--more alive than he’s felt in ages.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri buries his face in what can only be the famous Makkachin’s curly fur, his arms around the warm poodle, and hopes furiously that Viktor is not currently in his body, that this is a crazy dream or temporary glitch. He holds onto that wish, even though the _Dreamconnect_ itself is sitting on the soft and expensive sheets nearby, deactivated.

Holy shit, had he truly been playing games with the _real_ Viktor Nikiforov last night?

When he’d gathered up enough courage to look in the mirror, the same man who decorated his walls at home looked back at him. His hair wasn’t quite as perfect, with bedhead making it fluff up in odd ways, and he had an adorable smattering of delicate freckles over his shoulders, but those details only made him more attractive, more real. He was also _very_ nude, which Yuuri tried not to look too intently at to preserve his modesty. He was mostly successful.

If they switched, and the real Viktor Nikiforov woke up in Yuuri’s plain, naked body in a room decorated with pin-up photos of himself…

He really wants it to be a dream.

As time goes on, that option is less and less viable. Makkachin gets bored of his clinginess and leads him to her food bowl. Yuuri has to decide what he’s going to do from here.

If they switched, maybe he can contact himself? He locates Viktor’s phone by his nightstand and is thankful that it unlocks smoothly with a thumbprint. It takes a bit of trial-and-error through the cyrillic menu system, but he manages to dial his own cell after a while.

Yuuri grips the phone tight as it rings once, twice. What should he say? _Hi, sorry about my room, I promise I’m not a stalker, you’re just really pretty. I think we’ve glitched? Want to sue_ Dreamconnect _together?_

It keeps ringing until Yuuri gets his own voicemail message, which is very unnerving. He winces through it until the beep. “Hello, um, Viktor,” he says with Viktor’s voice. “Give me a call back as soon as you can, please.”

He almost leaves his cell number out of habit, then realizes he is leaving the message at that number right now, so he abruptly hangs up.

 

* * *

 

Viktor’s first mistake had been answering the door. He should have pretended not to be home.

There’s an older Japanese woman in the doorway waiting for a response. She’s wearing a cute floral-patterned apron, and Viktor wishes desperately that he could respond to what she’s saying, but he doesn’t speak Japanese.

“Sorry,” he repeats, in a voice not his own. He’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants he found nearby, and feels quite underdressed for this challenge. “Do you speak English?”

More rapid-fire Japanese. She looks concerned, and rightfully so. Is this Yuuri’s mother, perhaps? Neighbor? They don’t look alike.

He hears a classical piano rendition of one of his own skates start up from the bedroom and it takes him a moment to realize it’s a ringtone. “Sorry!” He smiles brightly at the lady and gently shuts the door. “Nice to meet you!”

By the time he reaches the phone, the call has rolled to voicemail. He can recognise the number on the screen as his own, and his heart soars because oh, that’s smart, Yuuri has figured it out and is _calling_ him…

The phone doesn’t unlock to his thumbprint, staying stubbornly on the plain blue lockscreen. It demands a number input to open. Viktor tries a few simple options, but nothing works.

He’ll have to wait for Yuuri to call back.

With nothing else to do, Viktor inspects the rest of the apartment, playing sleuth to discover more about Yuuri. The photos of Viktor are contained to the bedroom, the rest of the apartment being much more casually decorated. Pictures of a tiny toy poodle feature frequently, as do a few snapshots of Yuuri and another boy in what looks to be Thailand, smiling together brightly. The biggest decoration is behind the couch, a framed watercolor painting of the ocean waves at sunrise. Viktor likes it quite it bit, it reminds him of home.

Snooping is fair, Viktor reasons, as he peeks in drawers. There’s so much clutter around, but it feels cozy, lived-in. The true treasure trove he finds in a box in the living room: filled to the brim with dance photos, awards, medals, and trophies. A younger Yuuri smiles back at him with a medal around his neck in a small frame, wearing a cute little knight-themed leotard. There are even some DVDs in plastic cases, all dusty.

With nothing better to do, and kind of surprised that Yuuri even has a physical media player, he watches a few of them. They end up being recordings of Yuuri’s dance performances, and Viktor can’t look away. Yuuri is clearly at the top of his arena, a skilled danseur. Viktor can see the obvious crossovers between his own figure skating and Yuuri’s dance. He likes Yuuri’s artistry, passion, and athletic physique. His butt is especially nice too.

He kept Yuuri’s phone next to him on the couch, and this time when the ringtone sounds he picks it up immediately. “Hello!”

 

* * *

 

It’s really weird hearing his own voice on the phone.

“Hi,” Yuuri says. “Hello. Viktor?”

“Yes.” It’s his own voice with Viktor’s inflections. “You know, I said I wanted to see you again soon, but this isn’t quite what I meant.”

Yuuri laughs, he can’t help it. “Me too. I um, fed your dog and took her on a walk. She’s very sweet.” Said dog is currently sprawled across the couch with her head in his lap.

“Thank you, Yuuri.”

“I’m sorry about the posters!” Yuuri blurts out. “I didn’t think it was really you, last night.”

“It’s okay! Kind of flattering, to be honest. I would have never guessed you were a fan from the way you brutally crushed me at the UFO game.”

“Super Space Aliens 4,” Yuuri corrects automatically, then covers his mouth as Viktor laughs. “Sorry. That’s not important.”

“Yes,” Viktor’s voice turns more serious. “How are we going to switch back? Have you ever heard of this happening before?”

“Nope,” Yuuri says, “and I couldn’t find anything on the net about it either.”

“It is kind of exciting, though,” Viktor says. “I woke up a lot cuter this morning, for one thing.”

Yuuri sputters. “No, you did not. I woke up as the most beautiful man in the world,” he says, passionately, then backpedals. “Sorry! Um.”

Viktor’s laughing again.

“I think we should try connecting one more time.” Yuuri tries to change the subject. “Maybe the device just… had some crossed wires when we woke up.”

“That seems like as good of a plan as any. Should we try now?”

He’s not tired in the slightest. “Okay.”

Sleeping on command is easier said than done, especially when one is still on the line with his celebrity crush. Yuuri lays down with the device behind his ear, attempting to breathe deep and even. It goes about as well as expected.

“No luck, huh?” Viktor’s voice comes through the line after a time.

“Nope.” Yuuri rolls onto his side. “We might have to wait until tonight.”

“I think you’re right.” Yuuri should find something to eat from the modern and intimidating kitchen at the very least. “I’ll um. I’ll call you back in a few hours? What time is it there?”

“Early evening,” Viktor says. “Yuuri, you shouldn’t sleep so late, it’s unhealthy.”

“I’m more of a night owl.” He’s getting _scolded_. “And it’s my day off. It’s barely lunchtime at your place, anyway.”

“Ah, timezones. We’ll have to think of something to pass the hours. So, Yuuri, what’s your favorite food? Favorite hobby? Have you had any lovers recently? As for me, I just-”

“Stop! Stop.” Yuuri can’t hear any more of this or he’ll explode. “Let’s just... How about we talk about these things when we’re back in our own bodies? I think that would be best.”

Viktor sounds disappointed, but he relents. “All right, then. See you later, Yuuri.”

It’s a _very_ long day. Yuuri tries diligently to relax, to sleep, but the pressure makes it almost impossible. In a fit of desperation, he searches for and finds a large, unopened bottle of vodka in a cupboard. The bottle is slightly dusty; Viktor doesn’t seem to be a big drinker. This theory is reinforced when Yuuri starts to feel woozy after only a few shots, a novel experience for him.

 _Viktor Nikiforov saw all his merch. Viktor Nikiforov probably saw his dick. What if they never switch back?_ The vodka helps quiet the worries enough that he falls asleep with bright sunshine still spilling through the windows.

 

* * *

 

When Viktor opens his eyes in the dream and the view is the same bland living room as before, he cheers out loud. Yuuri, sitting on the couch and nervously tapping his knees, looks up and then relaxes back against the cushions in a puddle. “Oh, thank god.”

“Come here often?” Viktor flirts. It was lovely being in Yuuri’s body, but the view is definitely better from the outside. He hopes this switch-back will continue when they wake up. He looks him up and down appreciatively, amused that they both chose dream avatars that are almost perfect matches to their real-life selves. From his understanding, that is very much not the norm.

“My second time using the _Dreamconnect_ , and definitely my last.” Yuuri says, standing and bowing. “I’m truly sorry for the trouble this has caused, Viktor.”

“Assuming we switch back in the morning, you mean.” His voice is light but Viktor’s stomach feels tight with acid, happiness turned immediately sour. “Was it really that bad?”

Yuuri blinks at him like he can’t make the connection. “Of course, assuming everything is fixed in the morning it’ll be the last time, I mean… This must have been a huge inconvenience for you! I don’t know how it happened, but it’s better to avoid it happening again, right?”

Yes, it was a surprise that disrupted Viktor’s life in a big way, but it was also one of the most interesting things to happen in ages, a bright spot in a landscape he hadn’t realized was quite so gray until removed from it. Now Yuuri doesn’t want to see him again?

There’s a gentle pressure on his chin, turning his face to meet Yuuri’s. When did he get so close?

“Why are you sad?” Yuuri looks genuinely baffled.

There are no tears in his eyes, no frown on his lips. Viktor does not wear his heart on his sleeve. “I’m not sad.”

“I just spent the day being you, I think I can tell when you’re sad.” Yuuri looks hesitant immediately after that proclamation, stepping back a pace.

“You’re unfair, Katsuki Yuuri.” Viktor follows his retreat and then, boldly, wraps his arm around the small of Yuuri’s waist. “Very unfair. And I thought you were a fan!”

Viktor can feel Yuuri’s breath stutter in his chest. “I want to see you again,” Viktor insists. “If you’ll let me. I can be in Japan tomorrow night.”

“Don’t you have practice? Competitions?” Yuuri says, but doesn’t pull away.

“I need a vacation.”

“What about your dog?” Yuuri asks, earning even more points in his favor.

“She’s coming too, of course. I deserve a break. And after spending the day as you, I think I know you’d like that too.” Makkachin is just fine with planes, and there’s probably some strings he can pull to get her through customs quickly. How exciting!

“Are you sure? I mean, you saw my life, Viktor. It’s not very exciting.”

“I’ll come see to you dance. Artistic inspiration! My coach can’t say no.”

Yuuri cover his face with his hand. “You saw?”

“Of course!” Viktor gently tugs his hand down so he can see Yuuri’s pretty eyes again. “We can have our rematch in person, then?”

“Rematch?”

“Our space adventure. With the guns!”

“Super Space Aliens 4.” Yuuri says automatically. He smiles, bright and true. “It’s a date.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri wakes up in the morning in his own bed. He can tell before he even opens his eyes that they have switched back and that the dream is over.

It seems so fantastical in the harsh light of the morning. Yuuri thinks of how bold he had been in that imaginary place and flushes retroactively bright red, burying his face in his hands.

The abrupt realization that he has practice this morning and no idea what time it actually is motivates him to put on his glasses and squint at the time. He has to get ready immediately or he’ll be late. His phone buzzes in his hand right before he puts it down, lighting up at the top with a contact named <3 (alien) <3 (alien). _I couldn’t figure out how to type on your phone past emoji, but this is Viktor! I’m booking tickets now. What’s your address?_

Suddenly, being late to practice doesn’t seem so dire. He texts back a _good morning_ , followed by his address, and then clutches his phone to his chest, smiling so hard his face hurts.


End file.
